Hendgelin Greeneyes
by CFarmerlady
Summary: What would the Hobbits of the Shire do if they found an infant of the big people in their lands? And what if that infant was a reincarnated Harry Potter? Just fixed the prologue chapter. New chapter soon!
1. Lost and Found

_Premise: What would the Hobbits of the Shire do if they found an infant of the big people in their lands? And what if that infant was a reincarnated Harry Potter?_

_Credit: All translations come from my best interpretation of neverast . org 's Elvish dictionary and grammar. __The Lord of the Rings__ belongs to the estate of J. R. R. Tolkien. __Harry Potter__ belongs to J. K. Rowling. No credit or money has been taken by the author for these creations._

_**Hendgelain**_

Lost and Found

Harry closed his eyes for the last time, grateful for the darkness that was beginning to cover his senses. He was tired, far too tired to keep fighting a war which should have been ended long ago. When he had killed Voldemort, that should have been the end of it. But the Death Eaters had gone underground, and Harry had become an Auror, fighting to find them and protect the people that they would harm. He'd fought Voldemort from the age of eleven and killed him at seventeen. He'd been fighting Death Eaters from then to now, on the very edge of thirty-one. It was midnight, and it was now his birthday. His beeping watch said so. With his last breath, he said, "Make a wish, Harry." And then the darkness came, followed by blinding light.

Drogo Baggins was enjoying a pleasant afternoon fishing out of a small creek with is young son, Frodo. The boy was not interested in fishing, but was having a grand old time chasing a large frog that was hopping along the river bank. It was an adorable sight, and he found himself wishing dreadfully that Frodo's mother, Primula, had come with them to see it. He had inherited her face and her sweet disposition.

The creek was not a particularly shallow one, and eventually it fed into the Brandywine River, but Drogo had no fear that Frodo would come to harm from frolicking around the edges of it, so for a time, he paid strict attention to nothing but his pole and his pipe, enjoying pleasantness of the weather and the quiet. Therefore, he was quite startled when Frodo shouted in surprise that he had found something. He perched his fishing rod where it wouldn't be dragged into the water if a curious fish took the bait, and left to go and see what had gotten his son's attention.

Seeing him coming, Frodo said, "Father! It's a baby! But he's as big as me!"

Drogo looked and saw that it was, indeed, a newborn child of the big people, nearly as large as his four-year-old son and covered in nothing but creek mud. Where was his mother? "Did you see anyone else, Frodo?"

The boy shook his head. "No, father."

Drogo looked at the infant. "Well, youngster, it would seem you have been lost." Big eyes stared at him. "All right. Let's get you out of the mud. You'll need cleaning and drying, as well as some good clothing. We'll have to see what we can't come up with back at home."

In the following months, Drogo and Primula did what they could, both to care for the child and to find his own people and mother. But though he left many messages in Bree about him, there was never an answer. So, Drogo spoke to his cousin, Bilbo, who had only recently returned from his adventures in the outside world. Bilbo thought the lad was absolutely adorable, and Drogo couldn't help but agree. "But what are you to do with him?"

Drogo nodded. "That is precisely what I wanted your advice about. I've tried for months to find his family, and with no luck. I'm afraid they must be dead."

The youth began crying, and that was the first time he ever had in Drogo's presence. Thinking him hungry, Bilbo went to the kitchen to begin warming some milk and butter in a pot. "I suppose I could ask Gandalf what he thinks."

"No, no need to worry a great wizard about so small a thing as the disposition of a lost child." He sighed and pulled a feeding bottle out of his pack, in which he kept the various things needed to care for his unexpected charge.

"I doubt Gandalf would consider it a worry. Still, what else can you do about it?"

Drogo stared deeply into the child's eyes, which were a marvelous, startling green, made even more pronounced by his crying. There was something in those eyes, something that made Drogo want to weep himself, and which he wished nothing more than to erase. "I'm thinking of keeping him, raising him myself."

Neither of them spoke for a moment, and the still-nameless child stopped crying, staring wide-eyed at his rescuer. Bilbo looked at the boy and at his own brother. "Are you sure that's a good idea? After all, he's not even a year old, and he's almost as large as your three-year-old. He'd get a bit cramped after a few years, wouldn't he?"

"I've got enough land on my property that I could expand my Hobbit hole quite a bit. I could easily make a room that would fit him as he grows, and after all, doesn't Gandalf fit quite nicely in your own living room?"

Bilbo nodded. "Aye, and along side several dwarves. All right. You'll have to inform the Mayor, but I don't think he can stop you from keeping him. Making it official, even, adopt him for your son. He'll be Frodo's brother in every way that counts!" Bilbo paused. "But you must promise me not to do this lightly! If you adopt him, it must be with your whole heart. No child deserves less, no matter their origins."

Drogo snorted. "I'd never judge an infant based on his people of birth. But you're not wrong. He deserves a happy childhood. This should be given much thought before it is decided." He paused, thinking. "Yes, we'll have to think this through for a few weeks. There's no rush, of course."

But Bilbo knew his cousin. He could tell that this was an idea which had cemented itself in the younger Baggins's heart, as much as his wife's. Truthfully, the lad couldn't have fallen in with a better pair of Hobbits. He shook his head, a smile on his round face. "So, what shall we name him?"

Frodo chose that moment to pop his small head around the corner from where he had been evesdropping. "Are we keeping the baby, Father? Will he be my brother?"

Drogo looked first at Primula, then at is son. "Would you be alright with that?"

"I think it would be 'nnnderful." Frodo loved the word "wonderful," but had trouble actually saying it.

He grinned at his son's enthusiasm. "So do I. So what do you think we should name him?"

"Green?"

"Well, he does have marvelous green eyes, but I'm not sure he'd like me hollering it at him when I need him to come home for supper." Drogo scooped up his son and started tickling him. Frodo's childish laugh was infectious.

Bilbo thought it was a perfect name. It just needed some trimming. "Well, what about Gelin, then? That's elvish for green, and it doesn't sound so boring."

Primula smiled and nodded sharply. "That's perfect."

Drogo turned to the newly-named boy. "What do you think of that, hmm? Gelin Baggins!"

Gelin giggled and reached out to Drogo, asking to be picked up. It was plain that he liked the name. "Very well," Bilbo proclaimed. "Gelin Baggins it is!"

_I fixed a couple of details. Now I'll go and get the second chapter ready to post._


	2. Chapter 2: Secrets

**Hendgelin**

Secrets

_Credit: All translations come from my best interpretation of neverast . net 's Elvish dictionary and grammar. The Lord of the Rings belongs to the estate of J. R. R. Tolkien. Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. No credit or money has been taken by the author for these creations._

_Notes: Thank you all for your reviews! I know I've been gone for a long time on this story, but I recently got re-inspired by the wonderful Faykan, whose "A New Player" series reawakened my yen for this story. I'm sorry for those of you who have continued to both discover and review this story, but at least I have an idea of where I'm going, now, and it should come a bit easier._

_Also, I'm looking for a beta, both for this story and for another that I haven't posted yet. If anyone is interested, or has a recommendation on that front, please send me a PM._

* * *

><p>Gelin knew who he was. From the moment of his new birth in the mud of the creek, he'd had a full memory of the thirty-one years of his first life, the life of Harry Potter, and he'd not forgotten it as his now-childish mind developed. This made him a somewhat solemn child, with the weight of so many years and battles in his memory, but it also made him grateful and biddable. He was not bored easily, as a child of few years might be, finding his new world wondrous, and exploring it at every chance.<p>

Gelin was not a man in a child's body, either. His youth allowed him distance from the horrors of Harry Potter's existence, keeping that life from being the torture it might have been, while giving him a unique perspective on life. For example, on his third birthday, which Drogo counted as the day he was found, Gelin asked about the Hobbit tradition of giving other people presents on one's birthday, rather than receiving them. Drogo simply said that was the way it had always been done. He asked, "Father, did you know that other people do it the other way around? But I think this way is better. I like giving more than getting."

The one time Gelin ever got into a scuffle with any of the other children of the Shire was when he was five, and it was with a much older child, one who was as close to a bully as Hobbits ever really got. Robin Smallburrow had been picking on Frodo, who was a year younger than Robin, by using a small reed like a blowgun and shooting rocks at Frodo's ears. He was a decent shot, and the smaller boy's ears were bleeding. Being just as big as Robin, Gelin struck him under the chin with a balled up fist. Robin would have come back at him, but Gelin said, "It doesn't feel so good to be on the other end of it, does it! Do it again, and you'll answer to me." Robin never once bothered the brothers again, nor acted the bully in their presence.

Gelin had not told his adoptive father about his previous life. He hadn't told anyone. But the part of him that was older and wiser knew that a time was coming when it would be unavoidable.

That time came with his seventh birthday.

* * *

><p>Gandalf was coming, and the news had spread through Hobbiton like a wildfire. The wizard was coming to visit the Baggins family, old and young, and to enjoy the celebration of the youngest one's birthday. Frodo was beside himself with excitement, and regaled Gelin with tales of magnificent fireworks and storytelling. Frodo had never seen these things, mind, but Uncle Bilbo had, and it was all quite fascinating to the two children.<p>

Frodo and Gelin met Gandalf as he came near to the Bywater Bridge, along with another young Hobbit who was their fast friend, Samwise Gamgee. They all had a grand time together throughout the Shire, getting into all sorts of fun mischief. Gelin had a knack for getting them back out of it, using field tactics learned in another life to much more benign purpose.

The trio of children spotted Gandalf's wagon on the road and started cheering. The old man grinned under his pointy hat, and welcomed the youngsters up into the wagon. "Now, don't touch the fireworks, lads. They've got a bite for the unwary." Keeping his attention on the mule who pulled the wagon, Gandalf said, "Now, as it's your birthday, Gelin, why don't you come up here and sit next to me, hmm?"

He was quite excited by this, and climbed right up. He looked up into the face of the wizard. It was a kind face, but one which had seen many troubles, and which might see many more. "Well, you've certainly gotten tall, haven't you. If I didn't know you were a man-child and not a Hobbit, I would think you were twelve or thirteen."

Gelin said, "Yes, sir?"

Then the wizard looked at him, really looked at him. He blinked. "Goodness, but you are a mystery."

Gelin smiled, knowing there would be a long conversation in his and Gandalf's near future, for the wizard knew there was magic in him. "Maybe where I come from is a mystery, but I'm not. I'm just Gelin."

Gandalf snorted at that. "No one is just anything. Every thinking being has the potential for good and evil. It's the choices we make that define us."

Gelin nodded, his smile gone and replaced by solemn knowledge. "I know. And I choose to be just Gelin."

Gandalf nodded slowly. "A child may have that luxury."

Gelin brightened up, not wanting to cause his brother to worry, nor to inquire too closely at their conversation. "Yep!"

Accepting the signal for what it was, Gandalf turned the conversation to more pleasant topics, and Gelin gladly followed. But neither of them was aware of how intently they had been listened to by Frodo.

* * *

><p>The party was wonderful. The fireworks reminded Gelin of Fred and George Weasley, being magical explosions resembling fanciful creatures, and even a dragon. Gandalf made no mention of Gelin's mystery, nor did Frodo, everyone favoring fun over furor. Gelin gave presents to every child in the Shire, and most he'd made himself, wooden toys he'd carved with the pocket knife Frodo had given him on his own birthday. He even gave one to Gandalf, because, he said, "An old man is just a child in reverse." Of course, he'd also given one to his father and Uncle Bilbo, and both laughed heartily at Gelin's joke on them. Gandalf laughed, too.<p>

But when the fireworks and gifts were all done, the food eaten, and the guests gone home, Gandalf asked Drogo if he could visit them at home. Drogo accepted. Frodo looked at Gelin, and Gelin nodded to himself. It was time for secrets.

Drogo and Primula sat on their sofa, Bilbo and the two boys on chairs liberated from the dining room and Gandalf on the smaller sofa that was just right to be an armchair for him. He began by saying, "I've noticed something out of order with young Gelin, something I truly did not expect. The boy has an inborn ability to use magic."

The Hobbits all looked at the human child in surprise, but with none of the mistrust that Gelin was afraid he would see. He hoped it would stay that way, but knew he had to tell his whole story now. He took a deep breath and waded in. "This is not the first time I have lived, Gray Pilgrim. I don't know how it was done, or why, but after my death, I woke in the mud of the creek, just where Frodo found me. In my first life, I was called a wizard, but let me be clear; I was not and am not Istari. My magic is different from your own, tied to the earth, and I cannot yet use it much. I've noticed a few things, started having accidental magic episodes, but it will be a few more years before I can really control it.

"In that life, I was born Harry James Potter. My father was James Charlus Potter and my mother was Lily Evans-Potter. For a year and three months they raised me and gave me love, but they were betrayed and killed. The man who killed them tried to kill me, but failed, and was turned into a mere shadow, but that would not be the end of him. I was sent to live with my mother's sister, who despised magic and all things unusual. She and her husband hid what I was from me, and I didn't find out until my eleventh birthday.

"From that tender age until I was nearly eighteen, I fought the man who killed my parents, his shadow, his agents and himself. When I killed him, that was supposed to be the end of it."

Gandalf looked sadly upon the boy in front of him. "It's never so easy, is it?"

"No. His agents hung on, and for the next thirteen years I fought them. I was in a war gone cold, until finally someone came after me directly and stopped killing the people around me. They had killed my wife and my sons. My daughter was lying in a hospital bed, barely clinging to life. And I was gutted by a cutting hex, lying on the ground with my insides beside me. My time piece was set to make a sound at midnight, and it was at midnight that I became thirty-one years old. In a fit of gallows humor, I made a birthday wish, and then I died.

"I woke in the creek mud, a newborn of the earth. I remember my old life, but I have not been Harry Potter these seven years. I am a child again, and I have been at peace. You have all been my family, and I cannot help but be grateful. I never had a real family before this. When Gandalf looked at me so closely, I knew that I needed to tell you all the truth, but do not think that my past life negates what you have done for me in this one. Harry Potter never had a real childhood, and he was never allowed to be just Harry. He was the Savior, the Enemy or the Blessed Warrior, expected to be great because of something his mother had done to protect him. That is what you have given me. Here, I'm just Gelin, a seven-year-old boy who happens to be a wizard, too."

Drogo spoke before Gandalf had a chance to. "Why didn't you tell us any of this before now?" He sounded hurt and confused, but he didn't sound betrayed or angry, and Gelin took that to be a good sign.

"At first, I was just a baby. I couldn't have told you anything until I could form complete sentences, and by then I was so happy that I didn't want to ruin it. For me, your knowing will change nothing. You are my father and mother. Frodo is my brother. Bilbo is my uncle, and a far better one than I've had before. In that other life, that other world, people always judged me for being Harry Potter. I was really hoping that wouldn't happen here."

Before anyone else could say anything, Primula stood and walked over to Gelin, kneeling beside him. "You are my son, Gelin. I did not bear you, but you are mine, and nothing you are can change that. I love you and Frodo alike."

With tears in his eyes, Gelin said, "I love you too, Mum," and he stood to hug her. The others joined in their embrace, Frodo promising that he didn't think any worse of Gelin, and all the others agreeing.

The emotional moment past, Gandalf said, "I didn't mean to cause you any worry, young wizard. I expected to help you in solving a mystery. You see, the wizards of this world were sent by the Valar. None of us has ever been a child, and so you were an anomaly, and possibly one who would need a great deal of guidance in the use of your gift. I was also afraid that you might be used by the shadows in the future if you weren't given careful steering. But I see that this will not be necessary. I will, however, offer my assistance. If at any time in the future you need advice or help in using your gift, I will come to your aid without hesitation."

Gelin smiled at the older wizard. "When I turn eleven, I will begin making my wand. I'll need two things; a magical core and a length of holly, straight and supple. The holly tree should be easy enough to find, but I have no idea what magical substances are available in this world. If the core comes from a living creature, it should be freely given, not taken by force. I think it might take the four years between now and then to find something, so if you might be on the lookout during your travels?"

Gandalf nodded. "With pleasure."

The rest of the visit was spent with Gelin telling the family and their guest of the world he had left behind, from a cupboard under the stairs to a castle on the lake. He got no further than the view from the boats, though, before Primula decided that little boys had been up long enough. She sent them to bed, and Gelin promised to tell them the rest over the next few days.


End file.
